As some of you know from my Twitter feed, last night D and I met some new friends at Oya, a swanky downtown sushi joint.
There was some concern that I would, given my propensity for spilling every beverage that comes into contact with me, PLUS the white decor of the restaurant, ruin at least one seat cover.
You’ll all be happy to hear that I didn’t spill my drink. In fact, I ordered martinis because I saw that they came in stemless glasses (I slop so badly in traditional martini glasses, you’d think I fed hogs for a living).
HOWEVER. When the restaurant owner brought around shots in champagne flutes (blowjobs…tee hee!), I promptly stood up and managed to knock one of the flutes off the table and onto the floor with the hem of my dress.
There’s all sorts of euphemisms and double entendres I could throw in to wrap up this story. But who do you think I am, Carrie freakin’ Bradshaw? 😉
OK, but for true. When I was on my knees trying to pick up shards of glass and the waiter said, “I’ve never had a girl ask to clean it up before!” I almost died.